


The End?

by Geri_Lea



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geri_Lea/pseuds/Geri_Lea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is finding that the first weekend of the season is going better than expected, despite his spectator status - and Sebastian's failing on the track are making things so much brighter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End?

**Author's Note:**

> I have this huge angst hate filled fic that followed Mark and Seb's relationship from 2009 to 2011. I have accepted that won't get finished but this is the ending I wrote earlier this year and it doesn't work badly as a one-shot.

Australian GP 2014.

There’s a definite spring in Mark’s step, a bounce he can’t hide. So far this weekend was shaping up to be a beauty. And to think that he’d been worried about coming back, that inkling of fear that maybe, just maybe he had made the wrong decision in retiring. But his fears had been allayed; he had never been more certain that he made the right decision.

It was nice for a change to sit back and watch the show, there were still plenty of media obligations, plenty of press around, but it all felt different. Before the press had been an interruption to racing, an annoying feature of his job. For once, it was actually his job, purpose for being here. 

Yes he was happy with his decision, yes life was good.

He gives a half wave to Christian as he slips inside of Red Bull, stopping only to give Dan a congratulatory hug. He couldn’t be more stoked for his fellow Australian doing so well and getting one over his former teammate. Maybe that was why his smile was a little brighter since qualifying. There was nothing like seeing Sebastian put in his place. 

Mark doesn’t want to think that the reason he goes to see Seb is to rub it in his face that he had a poor day, he didn’t want to be that petty. But hell, that was the reason why he was throwing himself onto the small daybed in Sebastian’s driver room, rifling through his belongings as he waited for former teammate to return from shouting at his engineers, having a tantrum for not getting what he wanted. There was something else he didn’t miss.

Mark jumps when the door bangs open before being slammed shut, Sebastian throwing a handful of papers onto the small bench before he stills at the uninvited guest. “Who let you in?” Sebastian’s looked livid.

Mark’s hand dives once more into Sebastian’s packet of chocolate he was helping himself to before answering, “Door was open.” Mark holds up the bag he had dug out of Sebastian’s backpack. “Should you be eating these?”

Sebastian stomps over snatching them from Mark. “Get out. I don’t have to speak to you anymore.”

The smile Mark had been wearing all day returns brightly. “Come on mate, don’t be all pouty because you only qualified thirteenth.” Mark knew there had to be a problem with the car, there would be no other reason for the large discrepancy between the two Red Bull drivers. He doubted that Sebastian suddenly forgot how to drive. Pity it would be even better if he suddenly became shit.

Sebastian’s nostrils flare and Mark feels something light up inside of him at the thought of riling Seb up for a fight. It had been so long since they had let things out. Sebastian had stopped talking to him well before the end of last season. If Mark didn’t know better, he would think that Seb gave him the silent treatment for quitting. 

And then it’s gone. The fire dying out of Sebastian as quickly as it came. Mark watches as Sebastian turns his back on him and packs up his stuff without a word. Mark blinks. “That’s it? You don’t want to have a bitch?”

“Just finished bitching,” Sebastian mutters taking no care with his telemetry data and shoving it into whatever gap there was.

“Right,” Mark hopes he hid the disappointment from his tone. This was not the Seb that he knew. Mark smiles a little when the door slams closed on Seb’s exit, well old Seb certainly had disappeared too far away.

Jumping to his feet, Mark heads out after him, determined to get what he wanted. A fight, a little bit of Sebastian. It doesn’t take long to catch up with Sebastian who was powering through the emptying paddock.

“Fuck off,” Sebastian snaps at him when Mark fall instep beside him.

“Want to have dinner tonight and catch up?” The offer surprised Mark as much as it did Sebastian. Though Seb’s surprise is accompanied by a loud snort. 

Mark tells himself to let this go, let Seb walk away, Mark didn’t care that much to push the point. But he still follows, watches Seb stomp on the head of his shadow as they near the car park, and Mark is sure he can get more from Seb. 

The moment Mark locks his fingers around Sebastian’s wrist he regretted it. Instantly. They fought, they argued, there was often screaming, back stabbing and on one occasion a chair being thrown, but they didn’t touch. Touching was crossing a line. 

Sebastian comes to an immediate stop, turning around slowly to stare at Mark. “What are you doing?” There’s no anger in Sebastian’s tone, more an uncertain curiosity.

Mark’s gaze drops to his hand where he was still holding on. His silent command to his hand to let go doesn’t see Seb released. Fuck. He was fucked.

“Mark?” Sebastian was back staring at him, eyes holding a question Mark forgot he used to ask. “We don’t do that anymore,” Sebastian’s comment seems carefully phrased. 

No they didn’t do that. Fuck all that ended years ago. Yet here he was standing between two cars, four years later holding Seb’s arm and unable to let go. And he knows, knows without a doubt if he didn’t let go right now where this was going to end up. 

Mark watches as Sebastian’s backpack drops to the grass near his feet, his head screaming at him to not do this again, to not get caught up again. He wasn’t going to let this happen, he just wanted a fight, to pick at Seb’s sore spot, not this. Never this. 

Mark gasps when Sebastian presses against him in a split second, face pushing into his neck as his free arm winds around his neck. And then Sebastian is clinging to him, holding on. Mark feels like the world is spinning far too fast, he has no option but to cling back, because this wasn’t where he thought this encounter would end up. And finally he lets go of Sebastian’s arm, only to bury his hand in Seb’s hair tightly, the other locked around his waist to pull closer, hold him tighter. 

So more for a fucking fight. He was weak. He had completely lost all reason and clearly needed help, because maybe he had injured his head at some point today and he can’t remember.

“Fucking shit day. Fucking shit car,” Sebastian’s words are muffled against his shoulder before he turns his head to stare up at him. Mark’s thumb moves to stroke his cheek, noting how tired Seb looked, older all of a sudden. Where was that youthful enthusiasm that had once been so addicting and disgusting all at once? 

“I had a fucking fantastic day,” Mark responds in a hope to get him to lighten up.

Instead of telling him to shut up, Sebastian lifts his face and kisses him. The last time they did this was Korea 2010 and Mark thinks it’s been too fucking long as he deepens the kiss, ensures he has complete control as he bends Sebastian’s head back sharply wanting more. And with a whimper, Mark unsure from who, they both snap.

They’re both greedy, hands trying to be everywhere at once, tripping over Sebastian’s backpack as they stumble into the side of Sebastian’s car. Everything inside of Mark has turned from screaming stop, to screaming more. The hands under the back of Seb’s t-shirt move to his ass, pulling him up and against him, hating all their clothes, hating that this isn’t enough. 

Sebastian rips his head back, and Mark hears himself growl because he wasn’t finished sucking on Seb’s tongue. “Wait, wait, wait!” Sebastian’s desperately trying to untangle himself from Mark before tripping over his backpack and into the car opposite just as Antti appears.

“Sebastian?”

Mark prays that right now it was dark enough to hide anything that might give away what they were just doing, but even in the dark, Mark can tell that Sebastian’s face was bright fucking red. 

“I’m giving Mark a lift back to the hotel,” Sebastian says rushed and out of breath. “Mark thought we should catch up.”

There’s no way in hell Seb’s new trainer believed that, but in the usual way Finns are, his trainer just turns and walks off without another word. Mark can only hope that Antti wasn’t a damn gossip.

“Get in the car,” Sebastian says after a long moment of tense silence. 

It’s awkward the trip back to town, Mark trying to distract himself by organising for his own car to be brought back from the circuit, eyes never looking up from his phone. God, he wanted to be anywhere else but here. It had been a long time since he had hated himself this much.

Sebastian brakes hard at a red light, his frustration seeping into his driving. “Stop texting,” he snaps, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. 

Mark stops, pursing his lips as he meets Sebastian gaze. 

“What are you doing?”

“Sorting out my ride for tomorrow –“

“No,” Sebastian cuts him off. “What were you doing in the carpark. You hate me.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “I still do.” The last four years don’t disappear with one fucking kiss.

The lights are green and the back wheels spin as Sebastian takes off, eyes snapped to the road. “We fight and yell. You left. The end. That was the end.”

Mark wonders if they have both decided that the first year of their partnership just gets forgotten by both of them. That bit before all the yelling and fighting. That now brief period where there was no yelling, just smiles, Seb’s innocence and far too much sex with fucking feelings involved. That period of time where Sebastian tried to convince him they were ‘a thing’ and that he loved him. Just not enough to love him after their tiny collision in Turkey.

“I wanted a fight,” Mark confesses. “That’s all. It’s still the end.”

“Fucking bullshit,” Sebastian curses under his breath. Taking a deep breath Sebastian starts again, “I had a bad day. I don’t need you to mess with me today. Okay? Please don’t use me in a game, okay? Not with this. I can’t do that. You decided we don’t do this anymore. So we don’t. Done. The end.”

“The end,” Mark agrees with a nod, and with that Sebastian lets out his breath and slumps back into his seat, seemingly far more relaxed that they had agreed on that point.

There’s silence again, and it’s still tense, but the awkwardness had faded. At the hotel, they both exit the car and head to the elevator, Sebastian on his phone texting someone while Mark set about burying what had happened into that little box where he kept all those memories. But for a moment, a split second when he glances across at his former teammate he remembers and sees nineteen year old Seb there, walking next to him, eager and desperate to get to his room, to be fucked, so fucking needy. And Mark had revelled in it then, been addicted to that eagerness. Blinking to clear the memory of the past, Mark feels that craving settle in his belly. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

They score an elevator alone and Mark stands next to Sebastian, letting their shoulders brush, fighting the urge to pin the younger man against the closest wall and rape his mouth. Instead he takes pleasure in the hitch of Sebastian’s breathing, the shaky hands that shove his phone into his pocket before he reaches out to slam the button to his floor furiously.

Mark digs out his room card, tapping it in his palm ensuring to flash the room number at his teammate’s nosey glance. Mark was aware that he was playing with fire right now, one that had once consumed him alive. The door opens to Sebastian’s floor and Mark watches him flee from the space.

In his own room a few minutes later, Mark had barely kicked off his shoes and emptied his pockets when there was knocking. Mark felt his heart leap into his throat before he ripped open the door, before his heart stops momentarily at the sight of Sebastian.

“I hate you.”

That’s all the words Sebastian managed in the time it took him to launch himself at Mark, mouths pressing together as hands bat at the door to close it. It’s all madness, a flurry of desperation as they sink to the floor, Mark finding himself on his back and Sebastian straddling him.

Mark watches dazed as Sebastian sits up to tackle his fly and Mark returns the favour by freeing Sebastian’s already hard cock from his own shorts.

“Oh god,” Sebastian groans, head falling back as Mark’s fist and his own circle both of the cocks, pressing them together.

Sebastian rocks on top, Mark thrusting up, both trying to find a rhythm, but both too far gone to care. Sebastian’s moaning in German and Mark can’t believe they’ve not done this for years, that he ever thought he could go without this. He tightens his grip, as they shift harder and faster. Sebastian still as needy as he was all those years ago, still desperate and begging and it has Mark feeling his orgasm rise fast.

And unlike all those times in the past where he had always brought Seb to embarrassingly quick releases, he comes first this time. With a hoarse shout he throws his head back as he comes, spurting over their hands and onto his t-shirt. Sebastian’s sharp cry comes a few minutes later, his own release joining Mark’s as he continues to thrust into their joined grip. 

They both release their grip, Sebastian’s nose crinkling at the mess on his hand before falling forward to lay on Mark. They both lie there catching their breath. It’s only after that Sebastian speaks. “We don’t do this anymore.”

Mark lets a hand fall to the back of Sebastian’s head. “Apparently we do.”

“Just once?”

“Give me a bit and then we can do it again,” Mark snorts.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know, but it doesn’t change the answer,” Mark responds as he gives into defeat. Neither of them look at the other despite the fact that both seemed to be making themselves comfortable in their sticky situation.

“Okay,” Seb whispers. “This isn’t a game is it?”

Mark closes his eyes and swallows. “Not a game Sebi.” He whispers, “This was never the game.” Sebastian’s fingers dig in at that answer and Mark is sure that he can feel Sebastian smile against his shoulder. 

It might be a few years late, but Seb got what he wanted in the end. As usual. And for once, Mark didn’t care. He doubted this had a happy ending, it didn’t last time and not much had changed since then. Or had it? It didn’t matter now though, at least not in this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! A fic I completed! It's been a while, all my other stuff is in WIP. Eek.


End file.
